Sarra and A Mantis
by brian909
Summary: I don't know if I'd call this a Kingdom Hearts story or a Metal Gear story, to be honest. This story follows Sarra, a Nobody who is forever changed after a chance encounter with a man who calls himself Mantis, who may share similarities with Hideo Kojima's Psycho Mantis, but is a far different character. A story of thrills, chills, and maybe a little romance. Thanks for reading!
1. The Meeting

Simple days walk hand in hand with simple pleasures. For the woman with the midnight blue hair, simplicity was always welcome. Of course she loved a good challenge, and opportunities to test herself, but a lazy day in the waning days of springtime was loved just as well. Her love was a different kind of love, despite how it appeared. On the surface, she, and whatever feelings she expressed, seemed no different from the norm. But her feelings, which felt real to her, and were sincerely expressed, were artificial. She too, in a way, was artificial, as she was able to inhabit the living world, even though she did not have a heart. She looked human, she was as beautiful as any other human, but she could not feel, could not live, as a human being could. She existed without truly existing. Nobody, they called her.

Cloaked in heavy, black robes, which failed to complement her figure, she sat on the edge of the town fountain, with her feet dipped in the cool water. A broad smile was on her face as she gazed at her reflection, watching the ripples as she swayed her feet back and forth. Soon enough a small group of birds dropped in, occupying the space on the fountain next to her. She greeted them with a smile, although she wished that she had something to feed them. Nonetheless, she offered a hand, just to see if they would come to her, like how they did in the movies. She wasn't a princess, or a fair maiden in an enchanted forest, but it was worth a shot anyway. They had nothing to fear. On a day like this, no one should have had anything to fear.

Or so it would seem.

Hoarse breathing, somehow amplified, disturbed the tranquil silence. It sounded, and felt, as if someone was breathing down her neck. Looking over her shoulder, she saw nothing. But she still heard that breathing as clear as the day. Looking back again, that was when she saw him. And he saw her, although he paid her no mind. His boots stomped against the pavement, each step leaving behind a heavy thud that echoed and felt so close to her. It was such a different feeling, a strange feeling that she felt as she watched him from afar. She had never felt anything like it. Without actually being close to her, he felt as if he was right there. He now actually was getting closer, though she was not sure if he was coming her way. She was both puzzled and intrigued by him, judging by his appearance alone. He was clad in black leather, which appeared more like a second skin than anything else, and while the top of his arms were exposed, the rest of his arms and down to his hands were beneath black gloves, befitting of a surgeon, or a mad doctor. Most notably was his mask, which engulfed the entirety of his face. It was an eerie gas mask, which explained why she could hear his breathing so clearly. She wondered why he wore it, which only furthered her intrigue. Maybe he needed to wear it. Maybe the air was toxic to him and no one else. Or maybe he didn't want anyone to see his face. All that she could see was his eyes, and even from this distance, his eyes were the most vivid she had ever seen. They were a wild, unhinged mix of emotions. In them, she saw anger, she saw sadness, she saw pain, she saw hate. They were so very haunting, perhaps even pitiable, but also so very captivating. As he got closer to the fountain, and to her, she was momentarily distracted by the exit of the birds. Disappointed that they flew off, she swung her feet out of the fountain's water and watched as the gas masked man walked past the fountain, and her. It was then that she performed a simple, seemingly miniscule gesture, that unbeknownst to both of them, would change the course of their lives.

"Hey!" she called to him. "Did you see that? You scared the birds away." He stopped in his tracks and slowly folded his arms behind his back. Breathing calmly, methodically, he turned his gaze upon the woman cloaked in black. He recognized those robes. Members of a certain Organization wore them. It was an organization that, like most things, he happened to detest.

"Did I?" he rhetorically asked. "Perhaps it was the sudden movement of a woman, or the splashing of the water, that scared them away." She grinned and shook her head.

"I did that after they flew off! After _you_ scared them!" She seemed to be speaking in jest, but he appeared to be taking her completely seriously.

"Then perhaps I am the one responsible," he replied. "I do not know how I will go on, knowing what I have done. The last thing I would ever want… is for anyone to fear me." His words puzzled her. They sounded too over the top to be serious, and while she thought that he might have been being sarcastic, the tone of his voice told another story. He may have meant every word, or he may have meant none of it. She wasn't sure how to take it.

"Hmm… I'm not sure if I believe you," she playfully told him, still grinning. He took just one step closer to her.

"I fail to see how whether you believing me or not matters," he informed her, rather coldly. "Especially considering that we've never met, or ever spoken before." She crossed her arms across her chest.

"Hmph. Well, _I_ fail to see how _that_ matters," she quipped back, more seriously now but still tinged with a hint of that familiar playfulness.

"Indeed?" he wondered. "To you, I am a stranger. Before now, you've never seen me. You know not a thing about me. And yet you speak to me in such a way, such a mocking, condescending way. And to question the legitimacy of my words? I am truth, child, and I will not be disrespected by the likes of you." His words only puzzled her further. Hell, they utterly bewildered her.

"Disrespect? I was joking!" she managed to say, her smile gone. She appeared to be getting angry, and he noticed. It brought a crooked grin beneath that mask.

"I know," he admitted. "So was I." A look of surprise crossed her face before turning to a frown, a bothered pout.

"You have a funny way of showing it," she muttered. He took another step toward her.

"Is that not the purpose of humor?" he asked, amused. Her expression lightened now.

"I guess so," she conceded. "Oh! How could I forget? I'm Sarra."

"I know," he said again, chilling her down to her core. "I am Mantis." Hearing his 'name' chilled her even further. Like his eyes, his name was haunting, yet captivating. It could not be his actual name, could it?

"How do you know my name?" she asked, not trying to sound worried. But he could hear the slightest hint of fear in her voice, and he relished in it for a moment, taking a satisfied breath. He could feel it, that hint of fear. As a means of giving her an answer, he tapped the side of his head with two long fingers. This would not suffice for her.

"I don't understand," she said. "How do you know my name? Did you even really know it, or were you just messing with me?" He did not immediately answer, instead just having a brief chortle at her expense. The worry in her voice, the fear, had become more apparent. He crept toward her, going so far as to sit down on that fountain next to her. He was close to her now. She was within his grasp, but in truth, he already had her.

"What do you think, child? Do you think that I already knew, or are you questioning the legitimacy of my words again?" he eerily asked her.

"I think you're freaking me out!" she said, exasperated. "And I think you're toying with me, with my head. I'm not playing around. Please, just tell me!" She stayed seated on the edge of the fountain, but she started scooting backward, away from him.

"What if I knew everything about you? What if I could peer into your mind and see everything, uncover everything? Your name, your upbringing, your hopes… your fears?" he continued to question her, his voice so calm, so gentle, yet so very frightening. She was feeling something she had never felt before. His eyes were on her, yes, but she could feel his eyes within her as well. It was as if he truly was inside her head, toying with her mind. Knowing that now, realizing that, her fear began to dispel.

"I would say that you… you aren't lying. You have the power to read minds. That's how you knew my name. You read my mind," she answered him, her eyes now gazing down at the water.

"_Ah. Yes, you understand now," _he said, somehow speaking telepathically to her. _"But I've not just the power to read minds, my dear. As you can see, I can speak to them. And just as easily, I can manipulate them. I can break them." _Her eyes widened momentarily, and then she looked up from the water, locking her eyes with his.

"Well, if you're in there now, then I guess you already know this…" she began. "You don't scare me, 'Mantis.' And if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you got out of my head. You're not welcome there." He let out a loud, exaggerated "Hah!" before standing up from the fountain.

"_Such insolence…" _he coolly hissed, before continuing on aloud, not telepathically. "I go where I please, child! All minds are mine to –"

"And I'd appreciate it if you didn't address me as 'child,'" she cut him off. "You know my name, after all. And by the way, even with you wearing that creepy mask, I would imagine that you're not much older than me. Heh, you might even be younger than me." A grin returned to her face as he let out another hiss beneath that mask.

"I will call you what I please!" he snapped, before regaining his cool. "If you know what I am capable of, then you would do well to tread lightly. And unlike you, I do not condescend. You only are but a child before me. I have forgotten more than you know."

"You wanna know what I know?" she asked. "I know that you're a hypocrite. And an arrogant one, at that! I've only just met you, but I'm willing to wager that you try to bully and intimidate anyone you meet! That's no way to live." His expression flared beneath the mask. Now he was getting angry.

"Therein lies your childish naivety," he spat. "You fail to realize, fail to _see_, that all life is meaningless. Yours, mine, every life is worth nothing. We may live however we wish, for ultimately, none of it will matter." She stood up from the fountain, not willing to sit and listen any longer. She vehemently disagreed with every word he said, and it showed.

"You're wrong, 'Mantis,'" she said, taking a step toward him. "And the worst part is I have every reason in the world to agree with you! I'm nobody. I don't have a heart, like you do. I can't truly feel, like you can. But I know that my life is worth living. All life is! Everything we do matters in some way. And every one of us matters as well, even you. You really couldn't be more wrong!" He took a step toward her, his eyes enraged.

"You think I cannot see through your _filthy_ lies?!" he hissed. "Foolish, feebleminded woman! 'Every one of us matters, even you,' bah! Do not insult me with such absurd delusions! Like all nobodies, you cling to some pathetic semblance of hope! There is no hope for you, for your ilk, or for anyone. I cannot be wrong, I am _never_ wrong, and if you value your oh so precious life, then you will never make such a claim again!" Turning his words over in her mind, she smiled and calmly gave him her answer.

"You're wrong," she told him. "For that reason, I pity you. The proof that you are wrong is standing right in front of you, and you refuse to see it. I hope that you'll be able to see it one day. I hope that you'll see the good that the world has to offer you. I hope you'll see the good in other people. Believe me, I think a friend or two would do you good! In fact, I think I could be your friend. Maybe I can help you see the good in yourself." That was all he would hear. All he would allow her to say. He looked upon her with such devastation, such maliciousness, and within moments, he had hold of her mind. She brought her hands to her head, feeling him inside, feeling him impose his will upon her. His words bounced violently across her mind.

"_All I see is a foolish child that must be taught a lesson,"_ he said. _"Keep your pity, I'll have none of it. I warned you to tread lightly. Heh, if you claim that I cannot see, then it is _you_ who cannot listen. You will listen now. When the 'good' people of the world take you, snatch you from your mother's arms, keep you confined in a cage and experiment upon you like a worthless lab rat, you learn that any idea of what is 'good' is nothing more than a fallacy. You learn that hoping for things to get better, hoping for that 'good' to come, is the worst thing that you can possibly do. My eyes were opened a long time ago, my dear. I see the world, and its people, for what they truly are. I will show you now. I will show you pain."_

He simply stared at her, his arms still folded behind his back. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying her hardest to force him out. Whatever pain he wished to show her, she did not want to see. She was breathing heavily, desperate to break out of his mental hold, or to push him away. Anything, so long as it would stop it. She closed her eyes, but in her mind she could not avoid it. She could not avoid _him_. She saw, no doubt because of him, images of the very person he had been talking about. She saw men rip an infant out of a mother's arms, killing her outright before executing the husband in the same way. She saw a young man, trapped in a cage of cold steel, screaming such an anguished, sorrowful scream. And then, she saw burning, she saw an immense, terrible fire sweep across her mind, and she heard more screams. The last thing she saw was a gas masked man floating above the flames, tears in his eyes, bowing as if he were upon a stage.

When she opened her eyes, she frantically spun away from him, drawing two knives that had been concealed within her robes. She held them at the ready, still breathing heavily, as she stared at the psychic a short distance away. He no longer had his eyes on her, but she could still see him. Like before, she saw the anger, the sadness, the pain, and the hate. Such feelings had now been contextualized, and for whatever reason, she thought that she could feel his sadness, and his pain. She didn't know why, or how, but he had affected her in a way that no one else ever had. She pitied him even more than before. No one deserved to suffer in such a way. Tears forming in her eyes, she shook her head, her guarded stance wavering. Her heavy breathing turned to shorter, quicker gasps.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say. "I'm so sorry… But you're wrong."

Before he had a chance to lash out again, she had already gone, ripping open a dark portal and hurrying through it. She was gone. The fact that she was able to escape his grasp only served to enrage him further. His arms fell to his sides, his hands clenched into fists. With a bitter roar he flung his arms out, and he brought the fountain down upon itself. The water weakly sputtered out of its broken spouts before falling silent. He then raised his hands to the back of his head, pacing back and forth in maddening frustration. He was not wrong, he could not be wrong. And he could not let prey escape. He never did.

"_You think you can flee?! You think you can escape my sight?!" _he telepathically shouted, even though she could have been worlds away. It did not matter if she did not hear him. _"You think I will not find you?! There is nowhere you can run that I will not follow! I will find you, I will open your eyes even if I have to pry them open with my bare hands! The pain I showed you was but a taste, a small sample of what is to come! You will learn pain, true pain, and you will learn true fear! Heart or not heart, you will feel them both before you are broken. And believe me, my dear, you will be broken. And you will beg for the life, the life that you consider to be so dear, to end! You will long for nothing more than for it all to end! And it will, oh, it will, only when I allow it to. Until then, run, for I _will_ be upon you. And I will make you listen again."_

With that, he was gone, vanishing as people rushed to the commotion of the fountain. He did not know it at the time, but just as he had affected her, she had greatly affected him. No one had ever mattered to him, people were nothing in his eyes, but he wanted to find her again. He would be committed to hunting her down. No one else ever drove him to such lengths, or inspired him to such a commitment. And no one had ever escaped him. The few that did only did so because he allowed it. The rest either were utterly broken or killed. He would not allow her to be the outlier. Such passionate rage he felt toward her, and such deep pity she felt toward him, would serve as merely the foundations for the legitimate feelings that would ultimately blossom. Neither of them knew it, nor would they ever expect it, but his hate, and her hope, would melt and mold into something that the two would one day share. A feeling that he did not know he possessed, and a feeling that she did not know she could feel.


	2. The Hunt

There had to be a hunt, it could not be helped. For the sake of their own survival, living creatures could not just live in harmonious peace. There was always a hunt, a terrible pursuit for both parties involved. The hunted would, generally, perish at the hands of its pursuer. But if the hunter could not succeed, the chase would consume them to their very core. Such a fruitless hunt could drive a person mad, it could utterly break them. It could turn the hunter into the hunted. This was not a position that she ever hoped to be in, nor could she ever imagine that she would be in it. Her life, one that she was not truly living, had been so simple in comparison to what it had become in such a short amount of time. The city had become unsafe, and she did not wish to risk bringing her troubles home with her. All she could do was run from the man who always felt so near, even when he was not. She would throw frantic glances over her shoulder, expecting to see his ghoulish figure just one step behind her. The last time she looked into his mad eyes, she saw such a fire, a burning desire for her complete destruction. But past that fire she knew there was more. There had to be more. He was a desperate man, a man who had always been alone, and underneath his mask he yearned for that loneliness to die. She thought, she believed, that was the true reason why he was hunting her. Of course he was of a different opinion.

To him, there was nothing underneath that mask. Whatever face he had, whoever he was, did not matter any longer. He did not think that anything or anyone mattered, least of all himself. She was the exception to the rule. It was not necessarily her that mattered, no, she could not matter to him. But catching her, that alone was what mattered to him now. He craved her fear, he needed her to pay for what she had done. There was no running from the all-seeing, all-knowing psychic. There was no escape. No one ever escaped. Despite her tenacity, her stubbornly unbreakable will, she could not be different in that regard. She had fled to the city's outskirts, not really privy to the idea of hitchhiking, but still of the belief that she had no other choice. She could not keep running, but she could not stop. Part of her felt a hint of regret for wearing such heavy robes, for not only did they make moving inconveniently difficult, but it rendered her unable to trick any red-blooded fool into giving her a ride. Sex sells after all, and had she been showing skin, she probably would have gotten a ride from the moment she started down the road. She felt the tug of gravity with each step, and she did not anticipate being able to keep this up for much longer. Perhaps if she could find a cool spot off the road, or somewhere that provided just the slightest semblance of seclusion, then maybe she could try and get –

"Hey!" she heard a voice cry, bringing her to a halt. It was a man's voice, but it was not _his_ voice. "Where ya goin?" She found it to be such a stupid question, one that she did not care to answer. Instead, she opted to cut right to the chase.

"Can you give me a ride?" she asked, brushing a lock of blue hair back, trying to be as alluring as she could in such a situation. She did not really know how to do it, so she wasn't feeling too confident. In her experience, it was only her friend Justin who could make her feel that way. She wished he was here now; she knew he would help her if he knew that she needed it.

"…Hop in," the driver said after thinking about it for a minute. Her relief apparent, she got in the passenger seat and buckled up, taking heavy breaths all the while.

"Thank you. Thanks so much," she said between breaths. "Please, it doesn't matter where, just drive."

"Uh, you in some kind of trouble?" he asked, apprehensive. "Because I can't help you if you are. I don't want to get involved." She managed a tired grin.

"Don't worry, I'm not. Just go," she answered. She may or may not have been in trouble, but she knew this guy was now involved in this, whether he wanted to be or not.

Like a vengeful specter, he levitated across the sky, knowing full well that he was drawing attention to himself. To the sheep beneath him, he would likely be seen as some kind of illusionist. He cared not if they wished to wallow in their ignorance. So long as they stayed out of his way, he had no reason to pay them any mind. He diligently scanned the street beneath him, trying to find any sign of her. Black robes. Blue hair. A scent of total nothingness. It was a putrid intoxication that polluted his mask at first, before it carried down into his lungs. It only served to further enrage him, and such fury provided sufficient motivation to keep up his hunt. His mind, normally a chaotic stream of his own thoughts as well as the thoughts of others, only had a narrow focus on her, leaving him with a strange calm that he was not accustomed to. Of course his fury pushed him onward, but his mind was more relaxed than it had ever been before. This only served to anger him further. He had to find her. Whatever he was feeling, it was wrong, and she had to be to blame for it. It was a sickness, and perhaps annihilating her would provide him with some kind of remedy. He _had_ to find her. He drifted with ominous intent away from the city, his gaze falling upon the highway.

"So uh, d'ya mind me askin' what's going on?" the driver eventually asked her. She had her eyes on the side-view mirror, not expecting to see Mantis behind them but still wondering if he would be there. She couldn't relax, and answering this guy's questions wouldn't help with that. Still, she felt like she owed him an explanation.

"I just have to get away," she said, her eyes still on the mirror. She hoped that answer would be enough, but it wouldn't be.

"Look lady, if you're some kind of criminal, then I gotta pull over and – " he started pressing on the brake, so she knew she had to say more.

"Hey! I'm no criminal," she interrupted, the panic rising in her voice. "But I _am_ in trouble. That's why I needed your help."

"So what's going on?" he asked, flicking his turn signal on. He was going to pull over. She felt a lump rising in her throat.

"I got in a... bit of an argument," she started, trying to explain. "We disagreed, and he got pretty mad. I think he was going to hurt me. I had to get away." The clicking of the turn signal fell silent, and she felt the car speeding up. She sunk into the seat.

"Why didn't you say so?!" he asked, his voice loud, yet relieved. "This guy sounds like a real asshole. Hurt a pretty lady like you? Tsk, definitely an asshole." She smiled at first, finding herself agreeing with him. But then she started thinking about Mantis, and her smile faded away. She remembered the pain he had showed her. She remembered that cry. _His_ cry. She wanted more than anything to forget it, she never wanted to hear it again. If she had seen or heard any more, if he had shown her any more, it would have surely broken her down. Hell, she almost lost it in the moment right before she escaped him. In his eyes, past the fire, and that intense hate, she saw such an emptiness. A hopeless darkness.

"How could he live that way?" she asked aloud, barely above a whisper. She didn't expect her driver to answer, nor was she even really asking him. It was just a question that she had no idea how to answer. Considering the silence that came over the car, he didn't really know either. Her eyes stayed on the mirror until they slowly came to a close. Meeting Mantis, and escaping him, had been exhausting. She had no idea where this guy was driving, but it didn't really matter. If she could sleep for just a little while, then she would be all the better for it. She just couldn't let him catch her. She could not see him again. And yet, as she slept, he was all she saw. He was distant, and she was unable to run away. She was only able to move toward him. Not moving at all was not an option; it only brought him closer to her. And she couldn't let him catch her. So instead she ran, ready and willing to engage him head on. She was not afraid of him. She drew her knives, prepared for whatever he had for her. She would not let him take hold of her mind again. She would run him through before he ever had the chance. There he was, so very close now. She was ready.

When she reached him, she slowed down before outright stopping in her tracks. He was just standing there. He was not even looking at her. His gaze was fixed downward, his breathing slow and methodical. It was as if he was not expecting her. This was her own dream, so surely he should have been there like some kind of bogeyman, or a monster for her to slay. Even if she couldn't determine her own dream, this was still her mind. And yet, things weren't going as she thought they would. How could her mind not be her own?

"Go on, then," he said to her, his gaze still down at his boots. "Do you have it in you, child?" She looked down at her knives before looking back at him. He still wasn't looking at her. Even in a dream, he was able to confuse her.

"You would be doing me a favor," he started again. "You would end the torment of my existence. At last, I would have silence. As would you. You would be rid of me. Is that not what you want?" She thought long on that question, wondering if that was what she wanted. Yes, she did not want to feel his pain, she did not want to remember it. But would all of it truly go away if he were to die? Would she not just remember it still, along with the pain brought on by killing him? Is that what she wanted? Or did she want to relieve that pain? She had told him that she was willing to be his friend, and she meant every word. He really did need a friend, or at least a person who could show him that there is good in the world, and in other people. And he needed that pain to end. That rage, that sadness, that anger, they all had to be torturing him, just as they tortured him as a boy. Killing him would end all of it. Like he said, she really would be doing him a favor. She looked down at her knives again.

"Do it," he hissed, slowly raising his head. He was looking at her now, and she could feel the fire in his eyes. "Here is your chance. _Seize it._ End everything." She looked up from her knives, and saw the desperation beneath his mask. He wanted her to do it. Just as she was unafraid, he was unafraid of her, or of death. She watched his desperation turn to disbelief as she let her knives fall. She would not kill him. She could not kill him. It was not out of a desire to see his tortured existence continue. Simply, she did not want to do it. What she wanted to do was help him. She did not really know why, but she wanted to heal all of that pain. She wanted to give him a reason to not feel such terrible sadness. She wanted to give him that reason right there and then. And so, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. Her hands clung to his back as she hugged him, and she was not surprised in the least to see that he would not hug her back. His arms just remained limp before they began to shake, and soon enough, that gentle trembling gradually moved across his body. She noticed it, and he knew that she noticed.

"What is this?" he growled. Even that hoarse voice through that mask sounded like it was shaking. "Enough. _Enough!" _He tried to push her away, but she would not let him go so easily.

"Let me help you," she said, her voice gentle. "I can help you." She was surprised by how quickly he responded to her words, and just how he responded. He put his gloved hands on her arms. He did not push her away again, but instead held her, just as she wanted him to. Now she was regaining control of her dream, and of her thoughts. Or so it would seem. He shook his head before he answered her.

"There is no need for that. For you already have," he said, his voice also gentle, but possessing that familiar eerie quality. It did not make her feel as comfortable as she would have liked. "Because now, my dear, I see. There… there you are."

She felt his grip on her tighten, causing her to squirm before fully attempting to pull away from him. His gloved fingers dug into her arms as she tried to get away. It was all to no avail until she woke up, breathing heavily in the passenger seat of the car. It was just a dream, just a product of her mind. She may have lost control, but it was still hers. Knowing that should have relaxed her, but it didn't. A shadow of a feeling crept up on her, and it made her wonder if it really was simply a dream. What her driver said next made it clear to her.

"What the hell?!" he cried. "Damn thing's sputtering. Come on, man!" She closed her eyes and took a heavy breath. It was not quite a dream, and whatever trouble now plaguing the car was no coincidence. He found her. She wanted the car to recover, to have its second wind if such a thing were possible for an automobile, but she did not expect it to happen. For now, she was defeated.

"Just pull over," she said, shaking her head. "Thanks for everything, but I can just keep walking." Now it was his turn to shake his head. She heard the clicking of the turn signal again.

"Don't give up yet! We'll check it out, and if need be, I'll call my friend who's good with cars. We'll be back on the road in no time!" he told her with a cheery optimism. She found it to be excessive and misplaced, considering who was coming for them. Or rather, coming for _her_. She didn't say anything as he pulled over and got out of the car. She got out with him and didn't stick around long. Looking around for Mantis, feeling him near yet unable to see him, she started to walk away, drawing the protest from her driver, whose name she never learned, or cared to know.

"Hey, where're ya going?!" he called. "You don't gotta – " He was interrupted by the violent sound of metal smashing and tearing against itself. Helpless, he turned and watched in horror as his car was scrapped before his eyes. Upon hearing the carnage she turned and saw it happen, and past the car and its driver, she saw him. She turned forward and ran, and she dared not look back. He felt as if he were right behind her, even though he wasn't. In actuality, Mantis was standing beside the wreckage, seemingly admiring his handiwork. Quizzically, his eyes traveled from the car and out toward his prey. She was becoming nothing more than a distant, black speck. He looked back at the car, and he wondered if he was carelessly or purposefully too slow in destroying it. Had he been quicker, he would have killed her and her driver, bringing the car down upon them. But he didn't do it. Maybe he desired some kind of twisted satisfaction in letting this continue. After all, she had not feared him yet, and he wanted that to change. But maybe there was another reason.

"You got a phone I could borrow?" the driver asked, making the mistake of addressing Mantis. "My, my car… what the hell is happening...?" The psychic just looked at him before peering into his mind. There was nothing of any value to uncover. Although there was one thing that caught his attention.

"Tell me," he began. "Do I still sound like… an 'asshole?'" The driver's eyes widened. First there was the realization, and then there was the fear that he had craved.

"Hey, wait, I didn't mean – " he tried to backpedal, but it was far too late.

"Shhh. You did. I am 'definitely' an asshole, no? Those were your words. And this, with your car? _My_ doing. Fear not, for indeed, I am an asshole through and through." He started toward the fearful driver. The driver stumbled backward until he found himself paralyzed. Fear had absolutely stricken him.

"I live for nothing, I believe in nothing. Hatred, chaos, rage, destruction, such things are all that I have. I am worse than any insult or derogatory term that your feeble mind can provide you. I am nothing." He stopped, looking away from the driver and out toward that distant speck. He pointed a bony, gloved finger in her direction.

"But she," he went on. "She does not think so. She _will_ not think so. She will not see. It is a curious thing. She sees value in her own life, in my life, and even in your life. Such blindness, surely I must open her eyes. Do you not agree?" He was asking the frightened man not just to frighten him further, but because he was, for what he thought was the first time, unsure about what to do with her. He would not admit it, he would not even consider himself to be unsure, but truly he did not know what to do. It should have been simple, and initially he thought that it would be. She had to see as he did, and she had to be broken. There should not have been any doubt in his mind. And yet, even as she grew ever more distant and out of his sight, his thoughts remained on her. She may have been running from him now, but before, she had run toward him of her own volition. She had taken hold of him before he ever could make his move. Mantis' eyes bulged beneath that mask when he realized it: she was just as dangerous as he was. The all-powerful, all-knowing monster was just a gas masked man before her. He was not accustomed to such vulnerability.

"Hey man, do what you think is right," the driver said, stammering and starting to back away again. Eventually he hurried off, running back toward the city. The psychic saw no benefit in giving pursuit. After all, his hunt was not quite finished.

"What _is_ right?" he asked himself, pacing along the destroyed remains of the car. "What do I even think is right? I would have thought that punishing her would be the right thing to do, and yet my resolve is… lacking. This… this will not do. I must fix myself… by breaking her. There is no alternative."

"He's… not chasing me?" she asked herself between breaths, relieved that she had distanced herself from him. "He could have killed me! He could try and kill me if he came for me now! Is he letting me go?"

"She could have killed me," he went on, in solitude. "She _should_ have killed me. I did not want or request her mercy. Though I suppose she gave me more than that." He looked down at his hands. The hands which had held her close. "Why? What could be your purpose, if you will not hate me? What inspires your actions, if it is not fear?"

"He seemed set on catching me." She stopped running and looked back, unable to really make out anything. "He had me, he wanted to hurt me. Either I'm stronger than he thought I'd be, or he just keeps letting me go. It's definitely the first one, it's gotta be! Why would he just let me go?"

Both of them had their questions. Neither of them had answers. It puzzled her, it infuriated him. She opened another portal and stepped through, arriving at the edge of a small brook secluded in a wooded area. Home. A city was no place for a nobody, she could not exist there. She really could not exist anywhere. But her home provided her with that comfortable warmth that she assumed came along with a heart. She had calmed down considerably but she was still puzzled, still bothered by it all. And all the while she thought about him, and wondered if he were still coming. She never looked back, she never needed to; even then he felt so near, even if he was not. She strolled through the woods, following a path that she figuratively knew by heart, until she reached a more established pathway. A short distance away she saw the house, that cottage which seemed to emit a natural sense of tranquility. She talked about getting her own place, she did not wish to be a burden to her sister after all, but she always found herself coming back, and her sister always welcomed her. She opened the door and saw her sister feeding her baby, which brought a smile to her face. But then her thoughts returned to him. Her smile did not last.

Emerging from the woods, his eyes fell upon the quiet, lonely house. A dark grin formed beneath his mask. He considered bringing it down right there and then. She was inside, she had family that was inside. He thought about collapsing it on itself, just as he had done with the car, and the fountain before it. He would be rid of her in a matter of moments. What stopped him from doing it was his realization that it would not be enough. She had to be broken. There was no alternative. There could not be any other alternative. His smile did not last as he turned and reentered the woods.

"There _is_ no alternative," he muttered aloud, seemingly trying to assure himself. Or perhaps, convince himself. Just then, almost on cue, he remembered the feeling he had when she wrapped her arms around him. He remembered the feeling of her hands on his back, and how her arms felt in his hands. Thinking of it, thinking of _her_, brought him trembling limbs, a sour taste in his mouth, and an unusual fire deep in his chest.

"She _must_ be broken."


	3. The Night

Chance encounters are often meant to be precisely that. One would think that the impact that they leave behind would be minimal, or at least, forgettable. Meeting a person, especially a person that is the epitome of unbridled cruelty, should have been a chance encounter that she discarded from her thoughts. For her, it was a disturbing, uncomfortable conversation, and it was not one that she wished to remember or even dwell on. She did not want to remember what she said, or what was said to her. But it could not be helped; she remembered everything vividly. And she remembered him too. She could not forget his voice, which spawned goose bumps all over her body upon thinking of it. Whether he breathed them out through his mask or spoke them in her mind, his every word stuck with her. She could not forget his eyes, those fiery orange orbs, that held in too much pain for one soul to bear. She could not forget his name, nor would she ever forget it. Mantis. Such a name belonged to a creature, an insect, not a man. He could not be a man. He did not see himself as one.

With his compassion lacking, and his mercy nonexistent, it would be fair to consider him more of a monster than a man. All life was meaningless, his own life included, and apart from playing the part that fate had given him, there was no legitimate reason for him to live. He hated himself, he hated the pointless, aimless freedom of life, and he hated the filth that lived alongside him. For that reason, he lived to 'enlighten' all who could not see as he could. In truth, he lived to make all life as miserable as himself. They all had to learn that life is not worth living, because life has no worth to begin with. They had to learn that trivial things like happiness, hope, and love, are fictitious and unattainable. In his travels, everyone learned his truth whether they wanted to or not. But she was different.

She claimed that he was wrong, she argued him with a passion that he did not believe her kind possessed. She refused to see, she refused to listen. Not only did he not accept such defiance, but what bothered him so greatly was that he had her in his grasp, and yet, she somehow escaped him. Her defiance was twofold, and for that, she would pay. He would make her pay. Unlike all of the other sheep he had encountered, and in some cases slaughtered, she stood out and alone from the rest. He could not forget her voice, so lively despite being devoid of true feeling. He could not forget her eyes, which shone blue, like her hair. He could not forget her name, nor would he ever forget it. Sarra. But if it were up to him, _she_ would forget it, as he would break her mind entirely, to the point that even the simplest of memories would be lost. She would know nothing, she would be nothing, just as she was supposed to be. She would be broken.

Lying in her bed, she gazed up into the darkness, unable to drive him from her thoughts if only for a few hours. What he showed her, the horrible brutality that she saw, remained fixed in her mind like some kind of twisted illustration. She still could hear the screams, and the sound of fire burning and crackling. When she did not see such pain, she would see him there in her thoughts, simply standing in silence, all alone. She sat up in bed and pressed her palms against her eyes, trying and failing to get him out of her mind. But he remained. Slipping out of the covers, she took a big breath and gazed at the alarm clock at her bedside. She knew that Rosa, her sister, would not be awake, but she had to talk to her about this. When her sister first asked her if anything was wrong when she came home, she dodged the question. When her sister pressed her, she changed the subject. She loved her sister dearly, but she had not wanted her to worry. But now, in the early hours of the morning, she had to tell her everything about that fateful meeting. She had to tell her about him.

Walking to her sister's bedroom, wearing a tattered shirt and shorts instead of those oversized black robes, she was surprised when she discovered that the light downstairs was turned on. She quickly became anxious as she considered the possibility of it being him down there. It was not exactly fear, as she truly was not afraid of him, but her sister was both married and a mother, so she was more concerned for them than anything else. She would never forgive him if he harmed them. If he really was down there, then she had to face him, and she had to make sure that whatever problem he had remained with her, not her family. Slowly walking down the stairs, she followed the source of the light to the kitchen, and while she expected to see him sitting there, she instead found her sister, pouring two cups of tea.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked, even though she could clearly see what her sister was doing. Her sister smiled and brought the teacup to her.

"I know you too well, Sar," she answered. "I ought to, after all. You wanna tell me what's bothering you? From the moment you walked in the door, I knew, so you don't have to hide it. Unless you want to." Her sister was too kind. Among other things, she was a generous soul who was, in Sarra's eyes, further proof of the fact that Mantis really was wrong. She managed a smile of her own after taking a sip from the cup.

"I met someone," she began with apprehension. "I… I can't get him out of my mind. And no, it's not what you think."

"Oh? What is it then?" her sister asked with a smile, although she stopped upon seeing the worry in her sister's face.

"He was literally _in my mind," _she said, completely serious. "I heard his voice in my head. He had me trapped, unable to move. He showed me… terrible things. They were like projections, and I think they were moments from his life. It felt like I was there, watching… it was horrible."

"Hun, you're not making any –" her sister said before getting cut off.

"I know it sounds crazy. It probably is," she said, putting a hand on her sister's arm and giving it a squeeze. "But I can't stop thinking about him. I don't know if he's really powerful or if he was just able to catch me off my guard, but in any case, I have a bad feeling I'll be seeing him again. I'm not afraid of him, but I'm afraid I've put you, Rev, and the baby in danger and I'm just so, so sorry." Rosa put her cup down and put her hand over her sister's hand, smiling more tenderly now.

"You don't have to apologize," she told her. "We're safe here, I know we are. Nothing'll happen to you, or any of us. Me and Rev don't even know this guy, but we'll kill him before he ever thinks of hurting you." Sarra shook her head, unable now to hold back her tears. She had wanted to be strong, earlier in front of him and now in front of her sister, but the pain, his pain, which she kept bottled up, had taken its toll. Her sister pulled her in closer for a gentle hug.

"I don't want him to die," she admitted. "I don't want to hurt him. He's suffered enough. He has this pain, this hate, and I… I don't want him to feel it anymore." Now it was Rosa shaking her head.

"Sar, you don't know what you're saying," she told her. But her sister didn't listen.

"It may already be killing him!" she cried. "I think I felt it, I still can feel it, and it's… unbearable. I, I just… I don't want him to die." Despite the fact that she could not truly feel, and that her emotions were not legitimate, her tears were as real as any person's tears. The nerves that had hold of her and the shaking that came with it were real. The concern she felt, not only for her family but for him as well, was real. But not only that, but all of these apparent feelings that were overcoming her were things that she never felt, nor did she think she could feel them. But she was now. She wondered if he was to blame for this, or if he did something to her when he entered her mind. Regardless, she didn't know, and that feeling of not knowing was what concerned her the most.

"We're safe here," her sister reiterated. "I know we are. But whatever you're feeling toward this man… this is something you'll have to face. Come what may, he is _not_ going to hurt you. Try to get some sleep, honey. If you need to talk, I'll be here." The two sisters walked back to Sarra's room and shared in another hug before separating. She got under the covers and lied there, once again gazing up into the darkness. Talking to her sister helped, but she still did not envision herself getting any sleep. She wanted to believe her sister, of course she wanted to believe her, but she could not help but worry. Her reasons for worrying were justified, because it would not belong before he would come. She felt that chill run down her neck. He felt so near, even though he was not in the room. At least, as far as she knew, he wasn't there. She could feel his rage and his hate echoing, pulsing through her mind. He had to have been here.

"_Come out, come out,"_ he whispered in her mind._ "If you value the life of your beloved family, you _will_ take a walk with me, my dear. Do not keep me waiting."_

For the sake of the others she climbed out of that bed, getting dressed after doing so. Stepping out into the hallway, she saw that the light in her sister's bedroom was on. She could have told her of what she was about to do, of what she needed to do, but she instead say nothing, opting instead to go downstairs and out the door. She did not see him in that darkness, but as she could guess, he could see her. She froze when she heard his breathing, and took a breath of her own upon hearing him speak.

"You are either very brave," he hissed, unseen. "Or you are a fool." She just smiled when he was through.

"I know you're here. I can _smell_ you," she said aloud. "If you want me, I'm right here." He stepped out into view then, as if the darkness of the night had been his shroud. She did not move. He extended a long arm toward her, opening his gloved hand for her to take. She knew now that he wasn't lying about wanting to take a walk, but regardless, she did not take his hand. She simply looked him in the eyes, his pain still apparent. Her smile was gone now, replaced with a look of slight pity, and he noticed. He pulled his hand away and folded his arms behind his back.

"Want you…? Hmph. I already have you," he said, before turning and walking away from the house. She started after him. She knew she had no choice. She could have simply just gone back inside, but he was right about one thing. He had her. And like her sister told her, this was something that she had to face.

"So what are you doing, Mantis? You plan on killing me?" she asked as they walked.

"…No," he answered simply, although it took a little time before he said something. She noticed, and her curiosity was piqued.

"Oh, do you not know? Did you just want to see me again?" she pressed him playfully, despite the tenseness of the situation. She could hear his voice take a vicious shift when he spoke again.

"I know _everything_, child," he spat. "You should know by now to hold your tongue."

"And _you_ should know by now that you don't scare me," she fired back. "What is this? What are you doing, really?" Again he was slow to answer.

"…It is a surprise," he said, speaking softly through that mask. "You will have to wait and see." Hearing him say that threw her off, and she was starting to consider that he really did not know what he was doing. She hadn't been serious when she asked him if he just wanted to see her again, but now she was wondering if that could be a serious possibility. She walked with him in silence, and strangely, she actually felt a slight sense of comfort. She was not afraid, and she obviously was not completely comfortable, but to a degree, she felt at ease. She believed him when he said that he was not going to kill her. She shouldn't have, but with him, she felt safe. He walked as if he knew where he was going, which surprised her, as this was her home, not his. Had he looked into her mind, or was he just improvising? She walked with him until he stopped, and after giving him a look, she looked ahead and was taken aback.

He had taken them to the edge of a brook, a place that had happened to be one of her favorite places to relax. When she thought of home, she not only thought of family, but she thought of this place. The moon was particularly striking on this night, and it reflected off the water beautifully. He had to have looked into her mind to find out about this place, but why would he take her here? She looked at him with a contently surprised look on her face, while he just kept his eyes on the brook. She then looked at his hands, folded behind his back, and she noticed that they were ever so slightly shaking. He noticed it too, and he let his arms fall, clenching his hands into fists.

"Are you alright?" she carefully asked him. He said nothing at first. He did not even look at her.

"Have you ever been in a position where you were… conflicted?" he eventually asked her, not answering her question. What he said puzzled her, but she tried to give him an answer anyway.

"I think so. There have been plenty of times when I wasn't sure about what to do," she told him. But he shook his head.

"That is not what I mean," he said. "I am never unsure. But when you know you intend to do something, but feel that doubt, just that slightest hint of doubt…" He trailed off, and he puzzled her even further.

"I'm pretty sure that's what being unsure is," she said, again with care. "There's nothing wrong with being unsure… Hey. You didn't answer me before. Are you okay?" He shook his head again.

"No. No I am not," he answered, now turning to look at her. "You… I have not been able to get you out of my mind. So I suppose… yes, I am indeed unsure as to what I am to do next." She felt the nerves take hold of her. If she had a heart, it would have been racing.

"What… what do you mean?" she asked, taking a step back from him. She didn't know what he was saying, or what he would say. Her hands were shaking now as well.

"From the moment I met you, I knew that my fate was forever changed," he began. "I have lived so long, but only you have stood out in my mind. This will not do. So, I must ask you. Do you still believe that I am wrong?" She did not know what to say, or what to think. Why would he mention that she stuck out for him? And why would he say that it would not do? Just what was he planning to say, if anything? What was he planning to do? After thinking long about how to answer him, she looked at him dead in the face.

"…I do. I thought you would have already known that," she said, not backing down or wavering for a moment. He only nodded before looking back off to the water. He then said something that truly surprised her.

"I did. I just… hoped that you would have changed your mind. But so be it," he told her solemnly, taking hold of her mind. She immediately felt him and tried to resist, stepping back briefly before finding herself unable to move. She didn't have her knives, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. She couldn't do anything. He gazed into her mind, spooling through her thoughts, her memories. Now it was his turn to be truly surprised. For in her mind, he saw himself. He saw her loved ones; a sister, a brother in law, a nephew. Even a young man, whom he assumed to be a boyfriend, or some sort of crush. But seeing himself was what surprised him so greatly. He didn't know how to react, which was new to him. He had been surprised, shocked even, which was also new to him. Beginning to feel overwhelmed, he spoke into her mind, for what he expected to be the last time.

"_I have never let anyone defy me. I have never let anyone escape my grasp. I am afraid that you will be no different in that regard. This… this is the final chapter of my story, Sarra. Forgive me,"_ was all he said. Then he broke her.

He showed her true pain. He showed her true fear. Everything he had showed her before, amplified and further detailed. And so much more. She saw tragedy, she saw death, she watched as her loved ones died around her. She felt every emotion all at once, burning in her pores, pouring out of them. She cried such an anguished, sorrowful cry, and its sound carried across the night. He normally relished in such pain, such anguish, but he did not feel such satisfaction this time. She fell to her knees, all of the emotions devastating her. He thought she would have collapsed, but instead she looked at him with such fire in her eyes. Almost savagely, she lunged toward him, punching at his gas masked face and clawing the part of his arms that were exposed. She wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed, and all the while, he never reacted. Part of him expected such a reaction, so now that it was happening, he did not resist. He thought that she very well could kill him, and he found himself remaining cold, indifferent. His quickened breathing through his mask became sparse and choked as she squeezed. As things started going dark, he felt her grasp loosen, and then cease entirely. He saw the look on her face soften as the tears resumed falling down her face. She fell against his chest, her hands now clinging to his back. He stood in stunned silence, unable to move, his eyes widened in what had to have been disbelief.

She then collapsed at last, and she would have fallen to the earth had he not caught her. Her eyes were closed and every part of her shut down, as he anticipated. But she had not died. He thought he had broken her mind, but she was not truly broken. Not entirely. It would take time, but he knew she was strong enough to fully recover. He carried her in his arms back to her home, and in that time he was left alone with his thoughts, which were all over the place. It was not her reaction, or anything she said, or anything she did. It was the fact that he did not completely break her. He could have, but he did not, and he did not fully understand why. Nor did he understand why he would ask her to forgive him. He had never asked anyone to forgive him, nor did he envision ever asking it. But when he looked into her eyes, and into her mind, all he could do was ask for her forgiveness. Upon reaching her home, he telepathically unlocked the door and took her upstairs to her room. Surely he did not have to do this, but he found himself doing it anyway.

He laid her down into her bed and looked into her mind once more. It was far more troubled now, but even in that chaos, he still saw the ones she loved. And, to stun him even further, he still saw himself. He looked at her as she slept, his body trembling, his breath quickening. He then snapped to attention and turned his gaze to Rosa, who was standing in the bedroom's doorway. She appeared worried and angry all at once, and he could see the same fire that he saw earlier in Sarra's eyes. Despite the emotions taking hold of him, particularly the nerves, he was able to compose himself enough to speak.

"You were wrong," he said to her, referring to her declaration that he would not hurt her sister. He then looked down at Sarra and said one last thing before vanishing from the room and returning to the night.

"…And so was I."


End file.
